


Lower Than Deep

by Qpenguin98



Series: Brothers AU [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Injury, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, M/M, Recovery, Trans Keith (Voltron), honestly shiro doesnt pop in til the end, not a shippy fic, shiro gets put in a heiling pod and keith blames himself, thats just always, what else do i tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8658808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qpenguin98/pseuds/Qpenguin98
Summary: It’s his fault after all.
He could’ve gotten there faster, could’ve blocked the shots, could’ve grabbed him before he slipped, anything.
Instead he stood here yelling for him to get out of the way, screaming from his safe spot that was too close to do nothing, which is what he did.





	

Shiro was never good at keeping promises, Keith thinks to himself.

He said that he wouldn’t die, that he’d be there, and yet here he is, too close to death in a healing pod. Allura’s explaining something about his condition with a wobbly voice, but all Keith can focus on is how the blue light highlights his injuries.

He _looks_ dead.

Keith takes a breath, holds it for a few seconds, and breathes out.

“So will he be alright?”

Allura looks at him, “I… I’m not sure yet. He sustained extensive damage, and if he does get better, it will take time.”

“How much time?” Lance asks. Keith spares a glance from the side of his eye. “I mean, I almost got blown up and I only took like a day and a half.”

“You were far enough away from the blast that while your injuries were near fatal, they were easily fixed,” Coran says from beside the pod, rechecking Shiro’s vitals. “Shiro, his heart stopped before we could get him into a healing pod, but I got him pumping again, don’t you worry about that.”

“But how long,” Pidge presses.

“It could be weeks, maybe months, I’m really just not sure.” Allura looks incredibly guilty, and Keith knows that it’s not her fault. He knows that. He _knows._

“Is there anything that we can do that could speed up the process?” Hunk asks and Keith hopes, he prays there’s a yes to that question.

“Unfortunately, not right now. Now it’s best if we just let him heal. There’s nothing we can do at this point.”

He’s angry, furious at himself for letting Shiro get this hurt. For letting him get hurt at all. He’s lost him once already, he doesn’t want to do it again.

He takes a deep breath and leaves, turning through halls to the training room.

\---

The only good part about having lost Shiro to the dangers of space once is that he’s already gone through the grieving process. He refuses to grieve this time.

He focuses his anger and guilt at the training bot, sustains more injuries than he ever has in his life. His wrists are perpetually wrapped, but he doesn’t let himself think about it, can’t let himself think about it.

It’s his fault after all.

He could’ve gotten there faster, could’ve blocked the shots, could’ve grabbed him before he slipped, anything.

Instead he stood here yelling for him to get out of the way, screaming from his safe spot that was too close to do _nothing,_ which is what he did.

The training bot interrupts his line of thought, which he’s grateful for. Keith slams onto the floor and stays there, waiting for the bot to turn itself off. It will after a while, he’s learned. So he’ll just sit through the beating he deserves.

“End training sequence,” is called from the door.

He looks up and sees Pidge, walking towards him with a water pouch and a first aid kit.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” they say, handing him the water pouch.

“I’m not trying too?”

“Yes you are,” they say, pulling out bandaids and anti-bacterial ointment. He allows them to wrap his injuries. “You’re trying to trick everyone into thinking you’re okay, even yourself.”

“Pidge,” he starts.

“Keith, I know what it’s like to not know if your family’s going to be okay.”

He sighs, sipping on the water pouch. “Listen Pidge. I’m fine. I’ve already lost him one time. It’s not like I don’t know how to handle it.”

“You letting yourself get beat into the floor and staying there really lets me know you’re doing fine and dandy.”

“I didn’t _let_ myself get beat into the floor I misjudged and—”

“And if I remember from when we first met you dropped out? Yeah, dropped out of the Garrison after Shiro disappeared.”

“I didn’t drop out, I was kicked out, thank you—”

“So tell me more about how you know how to handle grief.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I don’t have the healthiest coping methods, Mx. I hacked into the Garrison because my family disappeared.”

Pidge looks offended. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing!”

“That’s what I’m saying. You’re no better than me.”

They finish patching him up and sit back, pulling their own pouch out of nowhere. “Keith, Shiro’s going to be fine.”

“Don’t,” he says roughly. “Don’t say things you know probably aren’t true.”

“That’s not—”

He stands, leaving his water pouch and leaves.

Pidge just sits there, alone in the training room, with their head in their hands.

\---

He visits the healings pods sometimes, just to check on Shiro. To make sure he’s getting better.

It’s been a month and they’re still not sure if he’ll recover.

Tonight, he looks pale. Paler than usual. Keith tries to understand the words on the screen, but nothing makes sense, it’s all jumbled together and confusing. He considers asking Coran, but that would be admitting defeat.

He puts his hand on the glass and looks at him.                    

“Get better, idiot.”

His hands fist and he grits his teeth, anger seeping into his emotions.

“You said you wouldn’t die, and what do you do? Get yourself stuck in a healing pod half dead.”

He hits the glass, closing his eyes.

“Don’t do this again, Takashi. Don’t leave me alone again.”

“Keith?”

He spins around to see Allura. She stands in the doorway, and all he can see is her blocking his exit.

“Hi,” is the only word his brain can come up with. His hand is still on the glass of the pod and he retracts it quickly. She walks over to him, checking up on the same words he’d just been confused by.

“Not much has changed, but what has is better.” She looks up at Shiro with the smallest of smiles and something in Keith’s chest clenches painfully. He turns away from the pod, goes to make his way out, but stops when he hears Allura’s voice call after him.

“Keith,” she starts and doesn’t finish. There’s a pained edge to her voice that he doesn’t want to hear. “None of this is your fault.”

He bites his tongue to keep from saying anything, fists his hands at his sides. “Goodnight, Princess.”

He leaves without looking back.

\---

Their luck can’t hold forever. They run into Galra, Shiro still in the pod. Keith promises himself that no one else will get hurt because of his inability to act.

He acts.

The others are screaming at him over the coms as he goes in head first, attacking directly. They win, none of the others take any damage, but none of them are happy.

“Keith, what the hell?! Are you even still alive after that?”

“I’m fine,” he says, bringing a hand up to his head, gently probing at the gash there. The glass in his helmet had broken, cutting him when he slammed into the controls.

Everyone’s asking what he was thinking, doesn’t he know he could get himself killed? Of course he knows that, he knows that it should be him in that healing pod instead of Shiro, that if he had acted faster, grabbed his hand before he’d fallen, blocked the shots that left him off his guard, it would be different. He’d be in the healing pod and Shiro would be fine.

Hunk makes it to him first when he steps out of Red. He frets, tilting his head to look at the gash, checking him over for any other injuries. Keith tries to push him away, but he’s persistent.

“Is this the only injury you’ve got? Is there anything else? Do you need to get in a healing pod?”

“No, Hunk, I’m fine,” he says roughly, trying to pull himself away. They’re going to want to know why he tried to take on a fleet of Galra by himself. Why he tried to cover them all when his lion is built for agility, not defense.

The adrenaline’s disappearing and his nerves clench at his stomach, his mouth filling with coppery saliva. Hunk seems to realize this and grabs a nearby bin, shoving it in his hands and he retches into it. There’s not much, he hasn’t eaten anything substantial in a while. Pidge and Lance stop short, freezing in place. Hunk places a wrist against his forehead, checks his eyes, seems to decide something.

“I’m going to help him clean up,” he says, and Keith wants to refuse, wants to retreat to the training room until he’s beaten into the floor. Lance and Hunk are doing that thing they can do, having a conversation with no words, only facial expressions.

“Come on,” Lance sighs as he steers Pidge away. Hunk turns back to him.

“Are you okay to stand?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

He helps him up regardless. Hunk does not take him to the infirmary like he suspected, but to the kitchens. He wets a rag, gently dabs at the cut on his forehead. Keith forces himself not to react.

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks in a quiet voice. “There wasn’t much when you threw up.”

Lying to Hunk will do him know good, he’s learned from experience. He averts his eyes. “It’s… I’ve been eating little bits.”

“Let me rephrase; when’s the last time you ate a normal person sized portion?”

He tries to think. He’s been eating progressively less since Shiro was placed in the healing pod, and even before then, he was never the best at remembering to eat. He stands there, mouth open, trying to calculate what Hunk would consider a normal portion based around what he’s eaten.

Hunk’s lips thin. “Right.” He starts pulling out the vegetables from the last planet they got food from.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you something to eat? The goo’s not that easy on the stomach, and I figured something soupy would be better.”

“Hunk, I’m fine.”

He hands Keith a knife and what looks like a root vegetable. “Help me out here.”

It’s a nice kind of quiet they fall into. Hunk will hand him different foods to chop up while he mixes things together for the broth. When he’s done with that, he pulls himself away to change. The paladin armor isn’t particularly heavy, but he’s tired and uncomfortable.

When he gets back, Hunk has changed as well. He’s mixing the ingredients into the broth he’s made. He turns to greet him again and his eyes lock onto the bandages around Keith’s wrists.

“You told me the cut on your head was the only injury. What happened to your arms?”

He bristles and crosses his arms out of habit. “Nothing happened to them.”

“Then what…” It takes him a second, and he deflates with a small “oh.” Keith fidgets with his fingers.

“Come here,” Hunk says, and he does. He hands Keith the spoon he was using. “Stir, it gives your hands something to do.”

He mixes in a figure eight shape, the repetitive motion comforting.

“Shiro’s getting better, you know. He shouldn’t have much more time in the pod.”

“He shouldn’t have been in there in the first place.”

Hunk gives him a look. “It’s not your fault.”

Keith doesn’t say anything, just continues stirring. Hunk sighs, rubs his hands over his face.

“If you had done something, it would be you in the healing pod with Shiro blaming himself. Nothing would have changed.”

“I already lost him once. I don’t want to make a habit of it.”

“Keith, man, no one wants you dead. You going out of your way to get hurt for us isn’t fixing anything.”

“It makes me feel like I’m doing something.”

“You _are_ doing something. We aren’t called defenders of the universe for nothing. And look. Everyone’s gonna be much happier with soup than goo. You’re helping make that. It’s the little things you do, not literally dying for someone.”

Hunk tastes the spoon from him and tastes it. His face lights up and he hands it back to Keith. “Taste.”

He does and it tastes wonderful. Hunk makes him eat a small bowl before going to get the others. He was right about them being more excited about the soup than the goo. Hunk hands him his refilled bowl and he hesitates a second before eating.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe he can do smaller things outside of battles instead of letting himself get killed.

\---

Hunk was wrong. He was dead wrong. Pidge is in a healing pod now, not nearly as bad as Shiro. They only need a couple days, but they shouldn’t be in there at all.

He could have…

He…

He’s not really sure how much more he could have done, yards away, but whatever it was, he could have done it.

They’re down to three paladins now, Shiro should be out soon, and Pidge even sooner, and it’s Keith’s fault for all of it.

They hadn’t noticed the soldier sneaking up behind them, didn’t notice the knife, and he should have yelled louder, should have run faster. But instead he was too slow, hesitated too long.

He’d carried them back to the castle as they choked on the blood in their lungs. He hasn’t washed the red handprint they left on his cheek off. He needs to be reminded of his faults.

Hunk and Lance finished the rest of the Galra off before he could get a chance to collect himself, to go back outside and wreak havoc. He lingered by the pods while Allura spoke to them, and all he could hear were the choked gasps they made in his arms.

He’d inched his way out of the rooms so as to not draw attention to himself, and now he stands in the training room, breath heavy, eyes stinging.

The training bot is ruthless, emotionless, and Keith needs to learn to be more like it. He is not allowed to grieve when it’s his fault they’re hurt in the first place. He is not allowed to wallow in a pool of his own self-pity. He is not allowed to-

The bot lands a hit. He relishes in the pain.

He slips into a senseless, emotionless lull. He can’t feel, can’t hear, can only block and spin and stab his sword at the bot. What good is he if he can’t protect his team, his family? It’s his responsibility to assure himself that everyone’s okay, that he won’t lose anyone else. The image of Shiro’s wide eyed shock as he slipped from the rock floats into his mind, followed by Pidge’s pained expression when they were stabbed, and he drops his sword with a clatter.

“End training sequence,” he manages, sinking back against a wall. He pulls at the hard plating of his armor, yanks it off until he’s left in the body suit, staring down at the blood splattered on the breastplate in his hands.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when the fingers snap in front of his face. He jerks his head up, eyes meeting Lance’s.

“You with me? I’ve been trying to get your attention for like five minutes.”

He’s out of the paladin armor, unsurprising, but it most likely means that it’s later than he thought it was. His hair looks damp.

“Dude, you look like a fucking mess.” Lance looks concerned, and Keith can feel the dried blood of the handprint pulling at his skin. He swallows around a thick throat and narrows his eyes.

“What do you care?”

“Don’t act like we’re not friends. I’m concerned. Everyone is.”

“I’m fine.”

“Cut the crap, you haven’t been fine since Shiro got put in the pod.”

His chest tightens. He doesn’t bother with a response, setting his face in the familiar mask of indifference he wears. Lance sighs.

“Man, I sure do love getting responses to every effort I put into conversation. It really is the best feeling in the world.”

Keith says nothing.

Lance’s eyes focus on something on his face for a brief second. “I’ll be right back.”

He returns with a wet washcloth and rubs it against the bloodstain on his cheek. Keith stares at the way it turns a faint pink color and, horrifyingly, terrifyingly, feels the sting of tears in his eyes. He tries to turn away, shove Lance out of his face before he notices, but it’s no use.

Lance doesn’t say anything, just sits fully next to him, wraps his arm around his shoulder. Keith weakly tries to push him away, but he doesn’t budge.

“It’s okay to feel things, you know. It’s okay to wish things were different and blame yourself for things that were never your fault in the first place. That’s okay to do. It’s not good, but it’s okay.”

Keith hiccup sobs into his knees and Lance tighten his arm around him.

“No one’s really dealt with how you feel about this, they just keep trying to distract you. And that’s all well and good except for the fact that it doesn’t really do a whole lot. There are times when you just need to feel stuff, and you haven’t let yourself do that. The closest you get is trying to protect all of us at the cost of your own life and it’s kind of scary. Pidge said you thought you didn’t need to grieve again because you already did it back on Earth, but that’s not a thing you get to choose. Shiro’s not dead, and neither is Pidge, but you’re allowed to feel sad and confused and scared.”

Lance runs his fingers through Keith’s hair, and it’s calming and comforting.

“It’s okay to blame yourself for things you wish you could have changed, but there’s a time when you need to realize that what happened happened and that it was never your fault. You didn’t shoot at him, you didn’t make him slip, you didn’t stab them, you didn’t do any of that, and it isn’t your fault. No one thinks it is, Shiro won’t, Pidge won’t.”

“But,” he tries, weak and wobbly.

“I know,” Lance says, and his voice sounds damp as he rests his head on top of Keith’s. “I know.”

\---

Pidge pops out two days later, new scar acquired, and very much alive. Keith stands there awkwardly in the group, doesn’t know what to say, and they hug him.

“Thank you,” they say, and he’s not sure what he’s being thanked for, but he doesn’t dare ask, just hugs them back tighter.

Shiro’s ticks run down over the next two days, and he finds himself nervously waiting as the seconds count down.

Two months and a week from when he was placed in there, the healing pod opens with a hiss of fog. Shiro stumbles out, gripping at the opening for support, and Keith immediately slings his arm over his shoulder to help him balance.

“Easy,” he mumbles and Shiro looks down at him. The nerves are back, ripping at his insides. Will he blame him? Does he think he could have done something better? Would he-

Shiro wraps both his arms around him in a hug, and Keith practically melts into it. His nerves are fried and he’s jittery and shaky and this is all so much better than he expected.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro mutters into his hair. “I told you I wouldn’t get killed and here I am falling off cliff faces.”

Keith laughs back the pinpricks of tears in his eyes. “Well I’m sure me not moving to grab you soon enough didn’t do anything to help.”

Shiro pulls back, confused. “Is that what you..? No, no no no that wasn’t your fault.”

The others, as much as they want their turn welcoming Shiro back into the land of the living, understand the gravity of the conversation unfolding before them, and slowly trickle their way out.

Keith averts his eyes.

“In a way it was. I could have gotten to you sooner and actually saved you from two months of being half dead in a healing pod instead of standing there screaming as you fell.”

His eyes widen. “Two months?”

“Yeah, it was… no one knew if you were going to live for the first month or not. So it was easy to think that if I had switched you places thing would have been better.”

Shiro’s face is pained, mouth falling down. “Keith. It’s not your job to protect me. As your older brother that’s my responsibility to you, and to the rest of the paladins at that. Don’t blame yourself for being scared. Don’t blame yourself for something you had no part in.”

The tears are stinging at his eyes again, and he wills them away. He nods harshly. Shiro gives him a once over and his frown gets deeper.

“You haven’t been eating.”

There’s no use in lying. “I wasn’t, but Hunk took it upon himself to make me help with dinner every night so he could feed me whatever he thought I needed that day. I’m eating, don’t worry.”

Shiro snorts. “That’s my job, didn’t you know. I worry about all of you, especially you. You pick up back habits easy.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Like you don’t.”

“I never said that, and besides, we’re talking about you.”

He huffs, crosses his arms, and Shiro motions at his wrists with forced humor. “My point exactly.”

Keith smiles, laughs quietly, and runs a hand through his hair. “I think Hunk’s going all out tonight, do you want to go see what he’s making? I think the other want some time with you now that you’re officially alive again.”

“As long as I don’t go in the kitchens, Hunk has permanently banned me form inside after the last time I burned water.”

“It’s still amazing how bad you are at cooking.”

Shiro follows Keith out of the med bay, hands on his hips. “Like you’re much better.”

“Actually, according to Hunk, I’m not nearly as bad as you are, though he only lets me chop and stir right now.”

Shiro stops, an unreadable expression on his face. Keith turns around.

“Keith, was… are you okay? Now at least?”

He thinks. This deserves an honest answer for how many moths it’s been building up. “I wasn’t. I was very much not okay and took it as my responsibility to protect everyone even if it meant I died. And it’s better now? I guess? Not as bad as it was. Everyone did their best to make sure I was okay and it helped, but you being awake helps more.”

Shiro nods, and they continue down the hallway.

“Brace yourself for excitement,” Keith says, and opens the dining hall door.

**Author's Note:**

> this took too long to write  
> also towards the end my u key started acting up so if there's any missing us let me know  
> i feel like  
> i dont know  
> this was an interesting write


End file.
